Going Up? Maybe.

I gave up trying to figure out the ups and downs of depression.  As I'm sure many have said before me...depression and mental illness is much like a roller coaster.  When you are up....your are up.  When you are down...you are down.   Everything in between is messy and sometimes more than one can bare.

I've got my butt securely fastened in the seat. I'm not going anywhere.  Hard to remember that it is a temporary ride, when it has hung around so long.  I'm hanging on tight.  As the gradual incline up has started to appear above the horizon.

With having surgery and having been in such a deep slump many things around my house have been let go.  Sure my husband does most of the cleaning and organizing.  However, there are things that have just plain been let go for way to long.

Slowly beginning to think about changing the look in my house.  Money is very tight.  We are unable to purchase anything at this point.  Keeping my thoughts and actions in line with moving up and forward will help me in my physical recovery.  In the end...that will help me getting back to work full-time.  And then it will only be a matter of time before we are able to add the little luxuries such as chalkboard paint to one of our kitchen walls.  And expanding my daughters closet.  Little things.  Moving forward. Moving up.

One thing and one day at a time.  For today I focused on baking and cooking.  Several different Pinterest recipes were made and tried today....some great and some not so great.  For this week I'm focused on making it to work and physical therapy.  Lessening the amount of pain medication each day.  Today, I've had nothing.  No Nsaids. No Tylenol. No narcotics.  None.  Doesn't mean I'm not in a ton of pain.  Just means...I was able to deal with the pain without giving in.  Without the anxiety around...when can I take the next dose.  Regardless of it being narcotics or nsaids.  I will continue to take one of the narcotics at bedtime in hopes that it will give me added help with sleeping.  This is still a huge issue.  And I need my sleep.  We all need our sleep.

Going Up?  Maybe!



I have not always felt like I am broken.  I have felt from time-to-time that I've been broken to the point that I didn't deserve love from anyone, especially from my Father in Heaven.  

Then I heard this song.  Actually, it was introduced to me a long time ago.  The message has changed my mind.  It is my prayer this evening that I"m able to take the message within this song and continue going up.

And as J* would say....find ease with in this battle.

~Stillness~

I've blogged before about the positive effects that massage has had for me over the last few years.  Initially, when I first started seeing someone for massages it was because my anxiety was sky high w/a new job promotion. Over the last 3.5 years, I've seen a handful of different massage therapist.  About a year and half ago, someone suggested I look the possibility of seeing someone different.  And after doing some research I found H*.....and I've not looked back since.

Sometime ago, I believe I blogged about this article "The Healing Effects of 'Massage Mind'".  I did not really think about what I needed or wanted to get out of my appointment today.  I knew my shoulder needed some TLC and so did the rest of my body.  It's been a few weeks since I've seen her.  (*insert ran out of flex spending and so I need to stretch it as much as possible*) 

It didn't take long for my body to sink into the table.  I believe strongly that my body knew what it needed...and finding the stillness that comes along with Massage Mind was exactly what I needed.  For nearly 90 minutes, I was able to turn off the constant tape that was running in my mind.  Okay...ALMOST 90 minutes.  

I continue to struggle. Some days great. Some days horrible. Some days just numb.  Some days I have no clue how I got from point A: to point B: w/o killing someone or myself. 

Being able to turn off the clutter and background noise was healing.  At that moment it was what I needed.  The pain was still there.  Still present.  Yet, with each uncomfortable spot that H* would come across she held that space and did so in a manner that continued the space that I was in.

At one point, she needed to get my attention.  I don't believe that I had fallen asleep.  It was just a matter of being that incredible deep....in silence....stillness....quieting my mind!  It has been a long time since I've been in this spot where I've been able to truly tune out everything/one around me.  As mentioned in this article it states "I don't know where I was at....but I didn't want to come back."  This is exactly where I found myself as H* got my attention.  As I laid there I thought about it over and over...that spot where I was.  Wondering exactly where I had been.  

AND....wanting to go back!

Afterwards, we discussed how it was one of the first massages that I've had in several months where I've not been triggered by trauma, post surgical pain didn't seem to trigger trauma related stuff and in general there was an overall sense of relaxation...quietness...stillness....peacefulness!!

AND......I want it back!!!

~Random Crap~

After several days of taking only tylonel...last night there was no other choice but to take something stronger.  To say I have beat myself up 100x`s over today for caving in... would be an understatement. 

This evening has been no better. I saw my chiropractor today.  Who was rather concerned at the amount of swelling.  It sucks that my chiropractor and surgeon are unable to communicate.   (My work comp companybis notorious for denying claims the moment a chiropractor is brought into the picture.)  He instructed me to contact my surgeon if the swelling in my bicep and shoulder/neck got worse or.didn't go down significantly.

Discouraging and depressing over and over.  I'm sick of feeling like I've not made progress.   Feeling as though I'm failing. 

I came home this afternoon wanting to crawl in a hole and not come out.  Ever.

It has taken every ounce of my ability to not give in. Throw in the towel and say the hell with it.

Not just in the healing from this damn surgery but life in general.   That is where I'm at.  There is no hiding it. 
Harder I try to find some sort of common ground, the further down I go.

Plagued with guilt and much deeper as I listened to my kids each talk to me tonight ....there voices were like the voice on Charlie Brown.  And all I wanted was to hear them...yet I couldn't pull myself together to do so. I'm.sure they see it.  How could they not?

I know this is depression speaking.  I know depression lies.  And tonight it is telling me all sorts of lies.  Ones that I believe.  Things I can't even begin to say or type.  Knowing and believing are so very different from each other. 

I want to sleep.  Maybe it would clear the constant racing thoughts.  Or not. One could hope, right?

Healing through Storytelling

Please check out Wanderlust Writes blog.  Click on THIS link to check out the "Healing through Storytelling" portion of her blog. I got notification today she added my blog to the Mental Health portion of this section.  I know there are several other blogs (and readers) who would be wonderful assets to be added to her blog roll.  Check it out.

~Own It~

Love this article. Please take the time to read it.I had to read it a few times to really get the depth of what she blogs about.  However, this one particular quote really stuck out to me.  If you get nothing out of it...get this:

~KNOW THAT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS IN YOUR HANDS, NOT YOUR HEAD!~

Anyone been around this blog long, knows that recently I've had a surgeon tell me that my shoulder pain was  in my head.  And if I didn't have a nurse case manager with me...I would have believed him.  

Own it.  Take responsibility for picking yourself up.  Pick up the phone and make that call. Send an email. Reach out for help.  

No hiding the fact I struggle with suicidal ideation on a daily (sometimes hourly) bases.  Today was no different.  I had a good night sleep.  Best I've had in a few weeks.  I went to the dr this morning and decided not to go back to work. Had lunch with a friend and my husband. We shared some great laughs.  It was a decent morning on all accounts.

I went from feeling pretty dang good to all of a sudden the concrete divider on the highway was appealing.  This is how it works.

No rhyme or reason. Just happens.

These are the moments that scare the living shit out of me.

These are the moments when I wish J*'s phone didn't go to voice mail and I could *reach* her. I left her a message. As I usually do. Not specific. Calling my dh wouldn't help. And for the most part; I worked through this rough patch.

I know this blog isn't always the most 'uplifting'.  It is real. It is raw. It is life. It is the vomit of my thought process (often held back) on a daily basis.

And I will continue to try and own the fact that my mental health is in my hands....not in my head.

~Up to Her Neck in Shite~

Would you go spread some love to Martha Steward Doesn't Live Here? She's up to her neck in shit right now.  Living life with a teen, an ex, twinado toddlers (whom we all know are always full of shit), and a spouse that is deployed overseas at the moments.  Who wouldn't be up to their neck in shit. Hell, I feel that way most days and I don't even have 1/2 the plate that she does.

Check her out on FB, too...you can click right HERE and it will take you to her FB page!!

We all need a pick me up from time to time.  Hell, every damn day I need a pick me up it seems.

~To Do List~

I managed to accomplish everything on my To Do List today.

Did you?

Get Back Up...Damnit.

1:  Learn the warning signs for suicide

2:  Join the Movement

3: Spread the word

4:  Support a Friend

5: Reach Out


So many things race race in and out of my thoughts.  As I sit here trying hard to fall back asleep..I decide to give up and turn on my computer.  Awake again at the wee hours of the night.  As I turn on my computer, log into bookface (f.acebook)..my family on the west coast has several different messages about what this day is and the painful reminders it brings.

I see the link to a news article and read it.  Again.  Proud and heartbroken all at once. As my cousins pick up the pieces on the anniversary of their father taking his life....it is is gentle reminder to me to keep on getting up.  Over and over. As hard as it is. Regardless of the war that rages on in my head.  I have no choice.  But...to continue to Get Back Up every damn day!

I will not leave that legacy for my children.  As hard as it is to fight the battle on some days.  As hard as it is to keep on moving. I will not do it.

And so for today....and tomorrow...and next week....I will get back up every damn day.  Regardless of how hard it might be.  And for the days that I can't get up....accepting that it's okay to stay in bed.

This is not the life that I envisioned living.  I never in a million years would have imagined that this battle would be one that I would continue to fight over and over.

I came home w/new medication samples and a prescription for antidepressant yesterday after a visit w/my pdoc.  She was a  bit different in her approach with me.  As I left and contemplated the things she said it stung.  She wasn't being harsh. Genuine and loving....and adamant that I'm not living my best life.  And that is her ultimate goal.  Yet, she is unsure which direction to go.  So once again, I try a new medication.  Over the last 2 ys antidepressants and I've not been friends and they've increased the S.I a ton.  Leary of giving it a try is an understatement.  I have nothing to loose by trying it. I have everything to loose by not.

Rough Night

No much to say other than the struggle to stay afloat is real.

Stuck I'm whirlwind of pain, trauma, and something else that works hard at bringing me down.

R* died and a ton of shit surfaced.  And 3 weeks later I had surgery. Which put much of tht "stuff" to the wayside.  Now as I taper off meds, pain contiues to be loud and clear...that shit..it all surfaces again. And with it comes other things.  That I am unable to stuff back down.  I eluded to some of it in my last post. 

Can't go there this morning.  I'm already in a hopeless,..you will amount to nothing attitude.   Describing where "this" piece comes from is to much.

Values

I have been thinking about this subject and how it relates to me...how it defines who I am...how it fuels me to keep going.

On Thursday,  J* challenged me to explore this subject on a deeper level.  

Along the way, I have lost the core values of who I am.  What drives me to turn the light on every morning and get out of bed.

Today, I didn't do so well at exploring what drives me.  In fact,  I didn't get out of bed.  Considering my bed is my recliner...you could probably say I got out of bed.  However,  most of my day was spent behind closed doors.  No self care.  No nothing to be honest.

I published previously wrote blog post...tht was.wrote over last few days.  I worked on a job application that took several hours. Attempted to write a resume.   And that was the extent of day.  The tv was on.  However, background noise was the only purpose.  

As I attempted to think about the core values...found deep down in my heart.  There was one thing that came to mind over and over.  Broken and tattered.

Putting any sort of meaning to these values...was even harder.  And depressing. Because each one feels so broken, tattered,  shattered and lost.

My faith and spirituality ....was lost along the way during our disruption.   My husband and children continue on without me.  I want and desire to find that spark again.  Yet the harder I attempt to nurture this piece of me that shattered along the way...Satan continues to fight hard get when I'm down.

My marriage...just like the faith/spirituality piece ...I'm lost in a cycle of not believing I deserve what my husband has to offer.  I love him dearly. And I know he loves me.  Yet, the tattered part of me keeps telling myself otherwise.   We are few months shy of celebrating 19 yrs of marriage.

My Children...without them I would not still be here.  When we disrupted our adoption of C....this piece of me fell apart.  I lost much of what I believed to be true.  A piece of me died at that time.  

I struggle everyday believing that my children deserve a better mother, my husband deserves a better wife.  And without me in the picture he could make that happen.  

My friendships...as.with the above ...this area a bit broken and tattered right now.  For reasons that only a few know...hell just typing this paragraph has me.in tears.  As with any loss...their is a grief process.  And right now I'm.in denial.  I have a handful of.beautiful.and.wonderful friends.   However, none of them live close.  The closest is 6 hrs away.  Locally none of them I'm able call and know they will be at my door in a short time.  I've gradually pulled back from my BFF of the last 18+ yrs.  Tonight, this portion of my values is pretty damn raw.

There are a few other values that are.important to me.  However, I don't care.to go into them right now.

More on this subject later...

PS: sorry for the (.) In my posts.  I'm laying in bed...as I have all day. Blogging from my phone

Liebster Award ~ Spreading the Love

I've been around the blogging world for several years. I've read hundreds of different blogs. I have 2 other blogs that I used to write religiously on over the last several years.  One of them is the journal of our disruption and the aftermath/grief that followed.  When I decided to open this blog I didn't believe I would ever share it with anyone other than my therapist and maybe a few other people.  I never envisioned I would have any readers.  And blog awards...well hells bells they were not even in the realm of my perspective.  I wasn't doing this for other people. I wasn't really doing it for support.  I was doing it for me.  So when The Plucky Procrastinator nominated me for the Liebster Award I was more than shocked.  Thank you darling for your sweet words and nomination.  When I read her blog post on Friday afternoon it didn't hit me that she nominated me until about an hour or so later when I got a message on FB telling me she had nominated me. Of course, I had to re-read her blog post and think to myself "duh...I just read that and didn't catch it."

As with all blog awards there is a song and dance to follow.  So here is my song and dance.  Just so you know...I don't dance very well. I will try to follow perfectly..often though...I fall.  Just so you know.

How the Liebster Blog Award works:

1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
2. Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.  
3. Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
4. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 5  blogs who you feel deserve to be noticed.
5. Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.
   6. Jump on one foot.
   7. Type a sentence one handed.
   8. Tell the small dog named after a Country Western icon to move because your foot is asleep and you need to jump on it to follow #6.
   9. Go put on deodorant.  Just in case things get steamy.

Never in a million years did I believe or even think that blogging or reading blogs would have brought me the friendship, support, and guidance I've found. I believe many of you who've been around a while and who are 'part' of this same group know about the ETAAM Trauma Mom's.  The Plucky Procrastinator is new to blogging.  I came across her sweet blog about 1-2 posts into her venture.  I love her humor.  She's brutally honest. Been effected by suicide in a different manner than myself.  She's taken her grief, pain, experience, ect ect...and been such a sweet support. I've seen the love and understanding she's poured out to several different bloggers over the last few weeks and what a blessing she has been/is to those around her.  Thank you for nominating me for this award. You have no clue how hard it is for me to turn around and stick with 5...I might break the dance and 'go over that'.  Just sayin'.  Oh' and I almost forgot..she's got a FB page where she shares her wit, humor, love, and all around fun self with the world.  Check out her FB page HERE..and then LIKE it.  And tell her that "I" sent you (don't use my first name please...I do have a rule about using my first name..you all knew that, right?

Okay...on to my nominations.  This is hard for me.  REALLY HARD.  I've tried to decide if I should mix this up between adoption and trauma or depression/trauma.  And I just can't stinking decide.  So here goes it. I'm not good at following rules, remember?

My Group Therapy - a few months ago I came across her FB page and fell in love w/her instantly.  Her blog is a little quieter than some (aka: mine).  However, it is just as good.  I love her ability to stand up to her mom and set the boundaries for her and her family.  As hard as it is....she's doing it little by little. Keep your chin up, girlie!!

Where the Sanity Ends - This gal (I'm assuming it's a she...) is somewhat new to blogging.  She roped me in with one of her first posts and has continued.  Having been hospitalized just a few times...I believe very strongly she needs to keep her humor.  With that humor she will end up being right next to one of her patients.  As she writes in her blog header: "Psychology is much more than a pill and an "easy fix!"  Boy did she hit the nail on the head with that one.  If it was ....well I wouldn't be writing this blog.  Check out her FB page.

Razorblade Brain - hot damn this momma has got it rocking.  She's on the road to healing (or has found her place in healing I should say) and is sharing it with the world.  Raw. Heavy.  Hard to swallow.  She's putting it out there.  A-Z.  I keep wanting to ask her what the hell she is gonna do when she gets to Z.  I will defiantly miss her if she stops at Z!!  Check out her FB page HERE.

Ain't That Sherific - Oh dear Lord this lady started out as just another blog that I followed.  Not religiously.  Not anything other than click here and there.  She has another blog, too.  But it has been quiet.  I think that quiet means good...or maybe not...I hope it wasn't a specific troll.  Regardless, I love her to pieces.  She is no longer just another blog.  She's seen me neked...she's helped me get dressed...she's hugged me when I didn't think I could stand up any longer....she's loved on me when I really didn't deserve to be loved....she's been a true BFF.  It sucks giant donkey balls she has to live so freeking far away.  She doesn't listen very well...just so you know...I've told her MANY a-times she needs to relocate to my home state.  I wish she would listen to me. Life would be so much easier if she would listen.  Well, maybe not easier...but it would just be all around easier to handle some days.  I love me some Sherific Sheri.  (psss....go on over to her blog and tell her she really needs to create a FB page!!  Because I know she has all sorts of awesomeness underneath her sweet smile and awesome laugh!!

Adopting Special Needs: This lady is like a 'long distance' mom.  She really is my "mom" for a few days in March when I join 8 other trauma moms and we rent a villa....she's our mom.  She's parenting a 2nd family via adoption (first was via adoption, too...just older).  Her struggles w/one of her adopted dd's has been quite tough over the last few several months/year.  In fact, so much so that I often worry about her.  Recently she wrote a blog post mentioning hair.  Blog trolls have came out in full force. I've not read the responses. Probably best.  What i know is...when our Foster Daughter came to us a few yrs ago her hair wasn't dealt with at all.  Her adoptive mom didn't have the energy to barely shower herself let alone do her African American dd's hair.  And bc the child raged more than she didn't...it wasn't an option.  I get being on both sides of the coin what that hair issue is all about.  If it means that Hope's hair flings all over than so be it.  If Hope can let her mom love on her by doing her hair than awesome.  But right now getting to the end of the day is more important.  I wish it was march....then I could see her again.


Again, I want to thank The Plucky Procrastinator for nominating me.  There are many other blogs I would love to list here.  Some of them are on my side bar --- go check them out.

As for the typing one handed...well most of the last 7 weeks after my shoulder surgery..that is what I've been doing.

As for hopping on one foot...ah' no. I need my feet. I can't afford to fall over and hurt my good shoulder. Good try.

As for being all stinky and needing deodorant....yep I've not showered or gotten dressed today and it is 5pm. I am headed to the shower when I'm done with this post.

Have a great evening!

Go Big or Go Home

I had planned on doing the THURSDAY portion of the Prevention Week activities found on this website.

Make a “Reasons to Call” Sign
There are a million reasons to call the Lifeline. We asked people to make a sign telling others why they should call 1-800-273-TALK or why they have called themselves. Get inspired by viewing the 200 signs on the Lifeline’s Facebook page—and please make and upload your own.

I hadn't came up with a "picture" idea that I would feel comfortable sharing here.  Since I blog anonymously, I am adamant about not posting pictures of myself or family. I've thought about different creative ways.  I decided to post a picture w/a sign.

However, I'm sick.  And I'm sicker than I thought I was.  In March, I went to the doctor and ended up getting 2 scripts for an ear infection.  I was told not to fill one of them.  And I did....just because.  This morning I decided to start one of the antibiotics because I knew I had a sinus infection and this is what I've been prescribed 9 times out of 10.

Tonight, my shoulder kicks up.  I head into a hot shower.  The steam from the shower kicked in and I started coughing and didn't stop.  Nothing could stop it. No medication. No nothing. I drove myself to the Urgent Care.  It closed at 8pm. I arrived at 7:50.  And I left at 9:30pm.  After chest xrays, breathing treatments, more chest xrays, the verdict is....

Go Big or Go Home....

Sinus infection.  Ear infection. Bronchitis.  And if in 24 hrs I'm not signficantly better....return to ER because it is possible that I may have developed pneumonia.

No making a "Reasons to Call" sign.

Instead, I'm hoping for some major relief of feeling absolutely horrific.

Permanent Solution....

Add caption

...to a temporary problem.

Every 15 minutes someone in the US takes their own life.  OUCH. That is a pretty stark statistic.  One that makes me cringe.  

Spend 1 minute learning the warning signs.  I posted a link yesterday to warning signs.  Here it is again:  HELP A LOVED ONE or FRIEND.

I personally don't keep a crisis number handy.  Nor do I keep any sort of crisis phone number handy.  I'm not saying that is the way to go.  I'm saying for ME..it wouldn't help.  And if at anytime I thought it would help...I could get the number immediately.  My therapists office is on my speed dial.  I've been a patient long enough at her clinic that I know their phone number.  I've used their after hours (not in several years) and am aware of how their process works.  For me this works.  I often will call my therapist, even if it is after hours or when she is not working, and leave her a message.  Sometimes, that is all it takes.  Something...as little/minor as a 'message check-in' that says "I'm struggling. Things suck. I'm not doing well..." or whatever it might be....that has helped.  It leaves me accountable on some levels.

If you or a loved one is struggling having the following information saved in your phone may prove to be helpful.  My husband is very aware of how to reach the clinic that we go to.  And how to reach my therapist should the need arise.

Save the LIFELINE number, 1-800-273-TALK (8255) in your phone and encourage your friends and family to do the same.  You never know when someone you love may need the number.

Forever is a Long Time

In the depths of a deep depression the thought of forever seems as though it is unattainable.
There were many blog and facebook posts on Monday about "World Suicide Prevention Day".  I don't believe I need to post the stats.  Or maybe I should.  As a reminder.

More people die in the US from suicide than the death rate from War and Murder combined.  Stop and think about that....Take 5...and think about that statistic.  It is huge.  If you take 5 min. of your time right now and learn the warning signs....you can make a difference.  Knowing the warning signs is so very important.  Even though I hate to admit it...I had a friend who knew the warning signs. Be that friend.  Check out this link.  You never know whose mother, father, sister, daughter...friend you might be able to help.

I don't wish this illness on anyone.  Not my worst enemy.  Ever.  Monday proved to be a day from hell.  I got myself up and to work.  And that was about the extent of my day.  I came home from work and retreated to my bed.  Where I stayed for several hours.  It was pretty folks.

I know most of the battle that I'm fighting at the moment has everything to do with the fact that I'm unable to work in my regular job capacity.  The surgery and pain issues following haven't helped.  The financial burden is huge.  And I am feeling like I'm slowly drowning.  The longer I"m off work.  The larger the financial burden is.  

Add into the mixture surgery related things such as...not taking the narcotic pain medication during the day so I can drive to/from work. By not taking the prescription, my pain is increased even more than it is with medication.  And my coping abilities are less and less.

Guilt over not being a very good friend to my 3 closest friends and not being a very good wife/mother.  All 3 have different things going on in there lives and I've not been able to be supportive in the manner that I should because I've been to wrapped up in my own shit.  I know a 2 of you read my blog...and...PLEASE know that I love you, think of you everyday day um day, and wish somehow we could be closer so I could show you how much I truly love and adore both of you.

The list continues to get longer.  And I continue to fall deeper and deeper into a hole that seems to be a familiar one.

No advice. No profound blog posts from other bloggers (that was my intent to share a few different posts from others that I have found helpful).  No nothing. Other than random ramblings.  It is way past my bed time.  Yet...I'm wide freaking awake. Unable to sleep.  Again.  If banging my head on the wall was an option I might have done it.

 

How I Stayed Alive...

........during a very dark period of my adult life this book:

 'How I Stayed Alive When My Brain was Trying to Kill Me'...

Purchase book here

.... was a very vital resource for me.  I've blogged before about this book and how it helped me.

From time to time I still pull it out.  Usually I will open it to a random page and begin reading.  Sometimes it is helpful. Sometimes it is not.  Often I find myself wanting to chuck the damn thing out the window or at something.  BUT BUT BUT....if I'm chucking the book out the window...I am not hurting myself.  And that distraction could be all it takes to change my thoughts from hurting myself to this is going to be okay.

My therapist at the time suggested this book and a few others.  This particular book has a few different crisis plans. I like how they are layed out and how it helps you create one. Often people don't create crisis plans when they are not in crisis.  I mean, I didn't.  I didn't think I was in need of crisis.  Hell, I didn't even believe I was suicidal. I was just extremely overwhelmed with the loss of our adopted son via a disruption and I had gastric bypass complications.

So when I was truly in crisis mode...I was able to sum up the energy and come up with a plan. One that would work for me.  One that was doable.  One that was personalized to ME. Not some standard form the damn hospital gives you and says "before you can be released you need to fill out this crisis plan".  My response to their standardized, not-very-personalized-and-huge-joke-if-i-ever seen one....fill in the blanks crisis plan was....I threw it in the garbage.  The psych that was seeing me wasn't to impressed. He told me that I had to fill out their form if I wanted to go home.  If you have read my blog for long you will know that "Uh...I don't do well with being demanded to do anything...ever."  And well...I pretty much told him where to put his crisis plan. And then I handed him this book..with my 'etched' out crisis plan wrote on a piece of paper.  He said "did you tell the social worker you had this?  Because this is much better than the one we gave you."  I responded somewhere on the lines that "I am the crazy one...and your nurses and staff treat me just like that. They know I have wrote it, that I was reading this book, and if they gave a shit then they would have told you that I already had done a crisis plan...it just wasn't the one your staff insist on me doing."

The KEY is to find something that WORKS for you. I don't give a shit if it is on the back of a receipt with my phone number, your therapist phone number, the number to the local bar, whatever it is.....find what works for you.  That ONE thing and hold on to it.

I did.
I'm still here.

Pull up a chair...

...and take me serious for a moment or two.

Today kicks off the beginning of National Suicide Prevention Week.  Please take a moment and educate yourself on the resources available to you and your loved ones.

This is a battle that is very personal to me.  There isn't a day that goes by that mental illness doesn't effect my life on some level.  Not every single day of my life is plagued with depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal ideation and/or other issues associated with mental illness.  However, many aspects of my life are effected.  From the types of medication that I can/can not take, to the disruption of our son whom we adopted, to the effects that my own illness has on my children/spouse, and the long lasting effects of abuse/trauma not only for myself but my children.  We live this every single day on some level.

If you were to meet me on the street you would probably never know that this 30something, wife and mother struggles with depression and suicidal ideation on a very deep level.  You may not even be able to tell that I've been hospitalized not once, not twice, not three times...but four times in a 9 month period of time.  When I'm not recovering from a shoulder injury...I hold down a full-time job.  All this to say....you never know who you are going to meet that battles the darkness on some level.

In about 10 days will mark the 1 yr anniversary of my Uncle D's passing.  I wrote this post upon finding out the morning after that he took his life.
  Please take a moment and educate yourself about the resources available to you and/or your loved ones.   GET HELP FOR YOURSELF - CLICK on this LINK for info on where to turn. Call the number on the screen above.

This week, as I am able, I will attempt to blog about the things that have/do help me get to the end of some pretty suck-ass-I-can't-do-this-anymore-moments.

Screaming

My body is screaming at me in a very loud way tonight.

Change in pain medication has been good and bad.  Currently my ENTIRE body hurts.  My hair hurts. My eye lashes hurt.  My good shoulder hurts worse than the shoulder I had surgery on.

Even though my body is screaming it hurts.  There is a little bit better pain relief with the new medication.

Silence the Mind

It has been 2 months since I wrote this post "Loss".  Interesting how time moves so slowly at times.  Then at other times it seems it moves so quickly.  At the time I thought the days would never end.

The past trauma that resurfaced with my birth fathers death was never something I would have imagined happening.  Interesting enough, I had fantasized many times (even in recent months) that he died.  Sometimes, in those day dreams/wishes it was a horrible painful death just as hurt those around him.

I had the opportunity, and still do, to work extensively on the abuse/trauma at his hands.  As I work with my massage therapist on the mind/body portion of healing and with my therapist, I am sure that healing will come in due time.  When I am ready.

At this moment, I sit in my recliner trying to make sense of some of this stuff.  I woke around 2am (pretty normal these days) in a world of pain.  As I laid in bed, for the first time in a few weeks, I tried to make sense of what the thoughts and feelings that were surfacing.  Initially thinking I woke because it was the usual time at night and I was due up for pain medication.  I laid there for a few moments, noticing what my body was telling me.  Trying hard to NOTICE everything about that moment...why I was awake.

This is just a 'little bit' of the thoughts that raced in and out of my thinking...
Is it positional?
Is it pain in my shoulder or low back? or both?
What kind of pain?
Do I really need to take pain medication? Would plain tylenol work?
Should I try to move position.  No, medication is needed.  Shit, I can't move my fingers again bc they are numb. Damn this is positional.
As I sit up there is pain EVERYWHERE.  I hear R*'s voice.
He can't hurt you. He's dead. Remember?

As I continue to get out of bed...noticing the overall heavy feeling that my entire body has.  I waited to take pain medication.  Trying hard to silence the mind.  Thinking over and over how incredible shit face that these feelings/thoughts are.

By this time I'm fully aware that I do need to take something for pain. My shoulder is screaming and it isn't just the mind/body/trauma piece that is screaming.  It is...time for me to take medication.  So I do.  And I make my way to my recliner.

There are specific memories that woke me up. I'm pretty sure they are connected with the overall pain I experienced upon waking up. Which happens often. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel about some of the the different memories that continue to surface.

 It is nearly an hour and half later and I am still wide awake. I shouldn't be wide awake.  The combination of medication should have been enough to make me fall asleep.

Mixture of not feeling safe. I check the doors and make sure they are all locked. I have convinced myself that maybe R* really didn't die.  He is a sneaky bastard.  He's not been out of jail less than a year. I'm sure he had some other reason he got in trouble and was due back in jail.  Why not fake your own death?  Rational thinking, I know. What can I say...it is nearly 4am.  And I've had 2 hours of sleep.  I know he is no longer living.  I have received the Medical Examiner's report and cause of death.  And I'm reminded all the more reason why I really REALLY really need to stop taking narcotic pain medication.

I don't resort to taking a hot bath or any other sort self harm behaviors.  Which, in many ways is progress.  Regardless of the suicidal ideation, negative self talk, and all over hopelessness that comes along with the shame and guilt associated with this shit.  I didn't resort to some of the things that easily numb out that pain.

 Stronger by Kelly Clarkson comes on the radio that I have playing on my radio.  I'm reminded as I listen to this song and write this blog post at the same time that I have a therapy appointment with Jodi in a few hours. And I really need to get some sleep and the need to silence my mind is really important.

Hopefully, this middle of the night random ramblings and purging of thoughts will assist in some of the silencing that is needed.

Gets Better...

Reminded

This evening I was subtle reminded why...I get up every single day.  As hard and daunting as things can be and seem at the moment ..there is beauty in everyday.

My children.  Both of them in their infinite wisdom, their quirkiness, their anxieties,  and all around love for the things/people around them.  Give me hope when hope is lost.

As I dozed in the recliner this afternoon I got a text from my 13 yr old...who was in her room.  "Thank you for letting me switch my phone to your old phone.  I will try hard to take care of it.  I'm sorry you still hurt so much"

A little while later my 10 yr old came and plopped a cold diet pepsi down on the stand next to me.  "I was going to get a pop.  I saw yours was almost gone.  So I got you fresh cold one.  And I will finish yours and not waste a new one for myself."  Thank you sweet boy. Mom was asleep...but a fresh cold pop is great.

A short while later my shoulder slips out of place.  Again.  My son hears me in the bathroom as I was attempting to dry myself off.  Without being asked he tells his dad " mom is swearing up a storm in her room...her arm is out again."  My husband comes and puts or back in.  Again.  And the sweet boy comes in with my purse " mom...I can't find your bottle of pills to get you some meds for your pain.  They are not wjere they usually are at.  I know you have some in your purse.  Can I have permission to get in your purse and get you some medicine?"  I tell him no I am not taking any meds.  He asks what time I had them last.  His dad replies "when she woke up".  And the boy sweetly and sternly says.."You WILL take something...nit has been more than 8 hours".  Upset and in pain I ask him to get me a pain patch instead and thank him for his sweetness.

My daughter a short while later comes and shows me her outfit for her first day of 8th grade tmw.  And brings me a cranberry muffin she made earlier in the day.  Telling me she made them bc she new I wanted something soft for my stomach.  I was sleeping when she made them.

Each of these things and many more are small acts of love and kindness on their parts.  Each reminding me what special human beings they are.  Even on the bad days when I wonder where on earth they get their nastiness ...they are human just like me. 

Where much is given..much is received.  Confirmation to me...why I continue to fight this fight. Getting up when every ounce of my fiber says to give up!

Under Attack? Probably Not.

Over the last week everywhere I turn..I feel like those around me are constantly preaching at me.  Telling me what I should be doing or not be doing.  Everything from how I should GET to work....to how I should dress myself...to...how much pain medication I should be taking and how I should take it....to who I should vote for....to...everything I do....being told what to do and how to do it.

Maybe it is the medication speaking.
Maybe it is the depression speaking.

Maybe it is the pain speaking.

Maybe these people in my life...they know what they are talking about.
Maybe these people in my life...they don't know what they are talking about.

On Friday evening my Grandpa happened to be one of those people.  Telling me what to do. How to vote. What I should be watching on television.  I was in a rather bad space.  I hurt. I was tired. I was crabby.  So when he went on his political verbal diaherrea of the mouth...I put him in his place.  He is the racist person I know.  So, even if our current president was a Repug....he would hate him.  And....I told him that.  As the words came out of my mouth, I couldn't believe I was actually telling my Grandpa off...so to speak.  "You know...you are the racist person I know.  You don't like O.bama because he is black.  And you wouldn't like him even if he was a Repug...so shush it up to me.  This country offers me the freedom to vote for who I want and I will be damned if I'm gonna let you go on a tangent at 10pm on a Friday night because I don't like  the 'want-to-be' VP."  He continued and then told me "oh, I forget...you are a Union lover.  And so, of course you feel this way."  And then...I lost my shit some more.  Reminding him that not only do "I WORK in a service related field that is supported by a union.  HE RETIRED at "WHAT" age a detective?  And why did he do that?  Because he worked for a union.'  I ended our conversation shortly after on a rather abrupt note.  He had to have the last word of course telling me that when I feel better and am not in so much pain AND on so much pain medication I would feel differently.  I held my tongue from telling him to kiss my ass.

Earlier in the week my therapist told me she wasn't going to tell me what to do, how to do it...only that I needed to find it w/in myself to come up with a better plan for where I was headed.   Because she knows that by telling me I need to do XYZ will only end up with me turning the opposite direction and bulking at the matter at hand even more.  I get what she was saying. And I understand it.  F*ck, I'm living it. See my last post.  And yet, even though I know I needed to hear those things she was saying....it left me in a swirl of preaching. I know Jodi wasn't preaching.  Just like I know that my mom isn't trying to preach at me.  It is just how I'm taking it in at the moment.

This morning, I'm being told that I am doing to much and need to stay home.  If I am going to be able to work I need to lay low.  I call bullshit. I need to be able to be up and mobile and keep my strength up.  Sitting at home is not going to build my strength.  And so the battle continues to rage inside of me.

I'm being told over and over by so many people around me to cut back on the pain medication. And I do.  Until, I leave my house and start doing things.  Pain comes back full-force.  Which leaves me in a panic.  The pain is unbearable. Is it true pain from my surgery? Is it in my head? Is it anxiety induced?  I don't know.  As long as I sit somewhat reclined back...I'm okay and can do 'okay'.

 And then, as I cut back at night...it brings an entirely new set of problems with it.  For the last 5 weeks...the trauma issues that were rearing their ugly head, that were constantly flooding every moment of my day...have been on the back burner.  Simmering. Slowly...simmering.  Somewhat numb.  Actually, lots numb.  I've said it before a few weeks ago in therapy.  And I do believe I mentioned it in a blog post.  I've found myself more and more numb. Conflicted if it is a good thing or bad. NOt sure what to think about it.  Yet, as I cut back more at night...that numbness lessons.  Night terrors start slipping back.  Shame and disgust at so many things begin to creep in more and more.  

This post has went no where. It is my own random ramblings.  Trying to sort the crazy's that are plaguing my ever waking moment.  I've never felt so under attack as I do right now...every where I turn. Afraid to ask for help in fear of being judged, critized even more, told it is my own fault (bc damn it all I know it...I don't need to be told it) and thinking back to Jodi's words from my last appt...I need to do it myself. And truth be told...I don't know that I want to find the answers myself.  If I had them...I wouldn't be where I'm at right now. 

I HATE THIS¡¡¡

These two things....Fear and Anxiety...

...have taken up residence within me.  An entirely new spin on anxiety.  And the same goes with fear.

I've found a cocktail that helps me fall asleep.
I'm out of part of that cocktail.
My husband would not go to pharmacy to pick any more up.
I'm in way to much pain to drive.
I've taken max dose of narcotic pain meds to drive.

If the timing is right. 
If the pain is not to intense.
If...
If...
If...then this cocktail works.

I have fought my entire adulthood to NOT take any sort of prescription pain medication.   Having had several surgeries it was the one thing I prided myself with. 

This time it hasn't been an option.

I have a strong family history of drug and alcohol addiction.  Never have I taken as much ad a sip of alcoholic beverage, used any sort of drugs, or smoked a cigarette.   Ever.  I joke that one day...it will all end.  But,  I know...based on the eating disorder that has plagued me my entire adult life ranging from over-eating to bulimia to anorexia to binging and so forth.  Don't start.  Stopping won't be pretty.

Here I am.

One day shy of 5 weeks post op from major shoulder surgery.

And I'm battling the beginning,....

Holy F@ck ...I can't even type it out.  Over and over I have looked at this screen.  Trying to type out the words.  To say them outloud.   To own...there is a problem.

My therapist,  J*, had every reason to believe this could become a problem.  I have bit my tongue trying hard to not show my anger for her bringing it up again....AND...again!

I was honest and forthcoming from the start ..it worried me to be on pain meds.  I had every right to be worried. Yet, there was/id not choice around the matter.

It is well after midnight.  
I sit her staring at the screen.
With tears stinging my cheeks....wondering WTH am I supposed to do? 

I have got to have pain meds.  I still can not use my left arm. I can not raise it.  Imagine NEVER moving it more than 2-3 inches from your hip...that is abt the extent of movement I have.

I have put my pain meds in a not so accessible spot.

Afraid to go to sleep.
Afraid to ask my husband for help.  Because I know there is no help he can offer.  I end up pissed at him.  Like now.  He is sleeping.   Clueless at the amount of physical and emotional pain I am.  That is not true...he knows I'm in pain physically tonight.

Afraid if I fall asleep a repeat of the last week plus at night will happen.

And so I sit.

No benedryl left in our house.
Unable to physically drive to get some.
Nor do I need it.
Afraid I will not have enough medication to get me to my next appointment.
Knowing I don't have enough.
And in pain.

Lots of pain.

The last dose didn't touch the level of pain I had.

I've ate shit till I'm puking.

This cycle is viscous.

The only thing that lessons the pain and anxiety and fear is...hot baths.  REALLY hot baths.  If you've read here long....you may recall hot baths do for me what cutting does go those who cut.

And..I watch the clock.  It hasn't even been 2 hours and the pain is extreme.

And...the sucidial ideation kicks in full force.  Because it is late.  I'm tired.  I hurt. I'll hopeless.   I hurt. 

And...I fucking hate this with every fiber of my being.

Hate it!  Hate it! Hate it!

Extreme Parenting Project

This video was created by parents of children with special needs.  The mom who started this project wrote these words for the familes who were going to be involved in the video"

"For the last two years I've said here and elsewhere that I'm going to make a video of still photos of YOU, parents of children with special healthcare needs and your wise words to yourself, THE DAY BEFORE YOU KNEW YOUR CHILD'S DIAGNOSIS. These words can be simple, complex, dark, light, positive, negative, funny, serious or everything all at once. I'm going to set the photos to music and hope it'll be helpful to new parents as well as inspiring. I imagine it'll be a healing testament for all of us."

Grab a kleenex.